Addict
by Ms.Gum
Summary: A story of a paladin and her struggles to deal with mana addiction. Originally supposed to be a one shot, but chapter two is in the works. M for future chapters gore/maybe lemon . R/R and I'll update faster :


**AN: **This is my third WoW related fan fic, but my first that I have openly put online. Please be gentle, let me know if you like it, and if there are any grammar or lore mistakes :). It was originally ment to be a one shot, just to practise first person writing (never done it) and get the creative juices going as I work on my major fanfic project. BUT, a few people wanted me to continue, so I might as well. I'll post it if you guys like this part.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own World of Warcraft, its races, NPCs, locations, etc. (Althought I wish I did.. helloo money!). However, the characters, plot and story I have created are entirely my own.

Read and Review, and I hope you enjoy!

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I walked along the trade quarter of the cool, moldy fortress of Undercity with a scowl on my face. On top of everything else, I had just spent nearly ten minutes arguing with an imbecile of a boy who had been partially hidden by the iron grate that protected the bankers. He was lucky for that too. This new banker had the nerve to deny me access to my guild's bank because I wore no tabard. After threatening to bash his head in, he allowed me to withdraw the gold I needed for my.. business I had to take care of.

But now, I was silent as I walked slowly down the bridge that lead towards the Apothecary. I was meeting up with an old acquaintance of mine, as I did once a month. It had become one of those few things in my life that were routine these days, with the world filled with demons and dragons and scourge and monsters. Not just the obvious ones, but the horrors that walk amongst us as well. In ourselves. In all this madness, I am thankful to have one thing that makes life seem normal. Simple.

The huge open cavern of the trade quarter shrunk into wide, enclosed quarters as I rounded the corner and descended deeper into the earth. It grew dim now, the only light coming from the river of ichor separating the inner and outer sanctums and the small, faintly glowing torches here and there. I passed the auctioneer whom I frequently visited, the one who's name I always forget. I know it's similar to some scourge fortress or another, way up in Northrend. She had thick leather bands covering her eyes, and the corners of her mouth were stitched high up her cheeks, making her look as if she always has some sadistic smile on her rotting face.

She waved at me, and I tilted my head and smiled in return. That was another constant in my life. The scourge-named ever-smiling auctioneer.

I sat down to rest and have a bite to eat; I could feel my body growing weaker with each step. I picked through my pack, and found some soft, salty yeti cheese. I don't know who ever thought of (or attempted) to milk yetis, but I have to admit the slightly bitter cheese made my taste buds dance.

I don't know how long it's been since I've made my home in Undercity. The differences between here and my old home of Silvermoon are astounding. Instead of curved, ceramic walls of cream, gold and rouge, the walls were stony grey, moldy and dank from years of water trickling down between the bricks. Instead of delicate benches, floating plants and enchanted brooms sweeping the walkways, there were fountains of steaming green ichor, body parts scattered in corners and the pitter-patter of vermin. Instead of herbs, magic and flowers, this place reeked of the sour smell of decaying flesh and mildew.

It was home.

I finished up my cheese, stood up, and immediately sat back down from dizziness. Tromping around in full plate armor for hours on ends gets quite tiring, especially in my condition. I debating heading back to my apartment overlooking the bat handler and stashing my armor, but I couldn't be bothered. Rummaging through my pack once more, I found the whistle that would call on Rahen, my mount. I gave it a sharp blow, and a minute later she came, bouncing from the direction of the stables.

No silly horse or overgrown chicken for me - Rahen was my beautiful, molted raptor. She stood at just over eight feet tall, all leathery, spined skin stretched tight over bulging muscles. Her coat is a gorgeous olive, with flecks of plum floating here and there. Two years ago I had spent all my gold and cloth impressing the trolls until they entrusted me with one of there famous, vicious mounts. She had cost me a pretty penny, but now she was clad in menacing red and silver armor.

I softly petted the flesh under her chin, and she made an awkward click-click sound deep in her throat as she made the raptor equivalent of a purr. I strapped my bags to her hips, behind the saddle, and thrust my foot into the stirrup. Hundreds of times of practice came into play as I swung myself up and over the beasts back in one swift motion. Scratching under the lip of her feathered helm, we trotted purposefully towards the Apothecary.

Sometimes I honestly believe that I am the only blood elf who has made a home here. Since the invasion of Quel'Thalas by Arthas and his scourge, my people seem to... dislike the forsaken. However, I find there grotesque features intriguing, and they are very easy to get along with if you are not squeamish. Blood elves are, well, snobby, with sunshine hair and emerald eyes, all perky with honey-dripped voices and perfect nails. It gets sickening to be surrounded by glowing, perfect people your whole life.

That's why I came here. Different personalities and unique people made this place great. Hell, half the people who inhabit Undercity are ghosts or banshees or ghouls or forsaken or some other type of corpse. It's the city of second chances.

Of hope.

I stopped Rahen with a slow pull of the reins. We were at the meeting place; the sickly grub-like monster sewn from different fleshy bits of other beings. It was wriggling in its suspended chains and connected to a machine pumping it full of a meaty, ichor-like substance. It was a sickening sight, and there were many whispers about is use, although I don't believe any of them.

I had to wait around fifteen minutes for my friend to show up, but that wasn't a surprise. He was usually late, another typical sin'dorei trait; taking too much time to get perfect and make a dramatic entrance. I just wanted to get the stuff.. I was already feeling more fatigued by the minute.

When he arrived, he was mounted on Violet, his purple hawkstrider. The bird creature looked unfittingly bright in this drab setting.

"Hello Tarin," I said blankly, drawing up a slight smile.

"Dornal ana'diel, Evuell'na?" he asked. His voice was feminine and songlike. "It's been a while since I've seen you, how's Outland?"

I hopped of Rahen and sent her off to the stables with a peck on the nose and a slap on the rump. Tarin did the same with his ridiculous purple chicken, and we watched the two bounce out of sight.

'It's been great Tarin, you should see Zangarmarsh. So eerie and beautiful, all mushrooms and odd glowing creatures and beasts that they say can walk between here and some other world It's amazing," I sighed, tucking my limp black hair behind my ears.

He nodded curtly. I watched the ponytail he had laying on his chest pull up and down slightly. "You'll have to take me there sometime."

"Perhaps."

There was an awkward silence between us, drawing both our eyes towards the ground.

'So..." I said awkwardly. "You say this man has a stronger solution?"

"Woman."

"Ah," I replied. Once again, the silence fell between us. The joys of less-than-casual meetings. He looked down at his hands, wringing them twice before meeting my gaze once more.

"Shall we go? I'll let her explain. She has a heavy accent, but she is much more knowledgeable in this than I."

"Lead the way."

The two of us walked side by side, passed the maggot-creature and into the Apothecary. Like always, the stench of herbs and chemicals met my nostrils and I wiggled my nose defiantly. I'm no alchemist, but you'd think after all the times I've been down here my body would be used to the thick, hazy air. But nonetheless, I continued to gasp until the suffocating feeling ceased as my lungs adjusted and I was able to breathe normally.

As we walked, I looked around the room, gaping at the abnormalities that so often happen in this area. Lifeless bodies lay on carts, and they were being sorted into two different piles. From one pile, an assortment of transparent banshees were picking through, and - with the aid of some forsaken - were invading them. It was eerie to watch, these ghost beings, disappearing into a corpse, and then the body lurching and moving with jerky motions as the soul inside got used to its new vessel. The other pile... well it was filled with the more... useless bodies. The decapitated, limbless, the unidentifiable. These bloodied up messes were being butchered by forsaken in blood-soaked aprons, hacked into bits and thrown in barrels with labels like 'livers' and 'wrist bones' and 'baby toes'.

I was forced to peel my eyes away from the gruesome yet mesmerizing sight as we rounded a corner. "We almost there?" I questioned.

"We are there."

"Oh."

I could feel my veins twitching now.

I stopped as Tarin climbed up six or so stairs and onto a platform. Sitting at a desk with her back facing us was what looked like a troll, judging by the hint of blue skin I saw and the dark pink braided mohawk hanging down her back. She was muttering furiously to herself, and I craned my neck to get a better glimpse at this strange person.

"Præy," Tarin said coldly. She jumped a little, then stood and turned around. My eyes widened when I looked at her, she was oddly and cruelly beautiful. Her eyes and lips were black as midnight, and she had tribal tattoos inked into the left side of her face. She wore a plate in her lip as big as a gold piece, and I caught sight of sparkling metal in other places on her face. A blackened and bent halo, which shimmered and faded in and out as if it ought not to be there floated above her head and her robes were a deep crimson hue.

"'Allo Tar'n. Lon' tim' n'see." She said, breaking into a great, unnerved smile.

"Yes. I'm here for business. I've brought a friend." He nodded his head in my direction. I felt her eyes, unmerciful and unforgiving, drill into my soul.

"What a beaut'ful 'lfie joo got 'ere Tar'n," she licked her lips.

"Yes. That is Evuell'na. Evuell'na, this is Præy. The woman I have told you about. I'll let you get acquainted." And with that, he was gone.

"What joo waitin' fo' chil', stepa' 'ere."

I nervously walked up the stairs and stood next to her.  
"Ah n' worra, I no' bite cha where it shows " she laughed. I giggled nervously as she continued. "So, Tar'n tell joo dat I gotta somfin' you want?"

"Yes... I was wondering if you could make me-"

"Oh I know what joo wan," she leaned in close to me, inhaling my scent. "Anyone dat can use magic could smell dat on jour breat' and skin..."

I shuffled nervously. "Well... could you?"

"I thought dat da light doesn' approf of dis sorta ting, Palladin," she smirked.

I flushed angrily, clenching my fists and snarling at her. "The Light abandoned me long ago, Troll. I never played by it's rules, I twisted it. Much as you shadow priests twist the holy magic and bend it to your own needs. I think you're in no position to judge me " I spat.

Her expression remained unchanged. "Do joo wan da stuff o' not?"

"Yes."

"Dan come 'ere. We canna do dis sorta ting in da open," she said, waving me to follow. We walked silently for a few minutes, finally arriving at a small apartment with a crooked, wooden door. Leading me inside, Præy beckoned to a chair. "Sit."

I sat.

"Why joo come to Præy now?" she asked over her shoulder as she looked in a cupboard. "Joo wanna dried stuff? Or da potion?"

"Potion please," I shuffled in my seat as I saw the glistening blue potion. "And, my old potions I were getting were losing their effect... they weren't satisfying my needs anymore. I needed more of it, and more often. I heard you could make stronger."

"Joo heard right, 'lfie. Da only one dat got magic ta give away dats stonga den mine is da prince traita 'imself."

The prince traitor? Kael'thas? He was back in Magister's Terrace in now... broken and defeated. Does he have stronger magic? Could he satisfy my addiction? I contemplated the mysteries and wonders behind the magic addicted prince.

"Joo hear me?" said the priest, snapping me out of my thoughts.

"Wh-what?"

"Two hundred gold," she said, thrusting two small viles at me.

"Are you insane? " I yelled in disbelief.

"Dat be da price of bein' an addict," she winked.

Grumbling, I pulled out a small pouch filled with coins, and placed it in her three fingered hands. "Here you go," I said bitterly.

"Will I be seein' joo again anytime soon?" she grinned, opening the pouch and fingering the golden coins within.

"Mmm... maybe." I replied as my mind drifted back to Magister's Terrace.

I left Præy's house and immediately found a dark ally. I took the gauntlet off of my left arm, casually throwing the plated glove on the ground with a clatter. I rolled up my sleeve and loaded the glowing blue vial into my needle, my fingers shaking the whole time. My flesh and blooded ached for the sweet crystal liquid inside. I pushed the needle deep into the blue-tinged vein hidden in my forearm, and pressed the top, injecting the fluid into my body. I breathed hard, feeling the sharp initial pain before the soothing magic settled into my blood and flowed through my body. My head swimmed. Everything was brighter. I relished the feeling. The world faded in and out from the shock of so much magic in my system, but I summoned Rahen and we made out way groggily to my apartment.

The next day, I woke up in a blur. My world was spinning round and round. I had passed out in my small apartment in my plate armor, and by the _sun _my back hurt. My one gauntlet was missing – I vaguely remember not picking it up again after getting high. Damnit. I could already feel the mana going through my system. My body was overwhelmed but quickly absorbing its energies. I didn't bother to even glance at my pathetic reflection as I grabbed my back and headed out the door. I could hardly walk, the floor felt like it was tilting and I kept falling over, but I made my way to the bat handler. This magic, the priest's magic, it was good, but not enough. I needed more. This city... this wonderful place, of second chances. I have to leave it, I have to go somewhere else where I can get what I need. I reached the bat handler, his face a smudge of grey surrounded by brown hair.

"A flight to Quel'Danas..." I slurred.


End file.
